Diablo Cody's new Tully looks at maternal reality
There’s something about the Hollywood portrayal of early motherhood that’s always rubbed me the wrong way. It’s usually full of breathless optimism, of immediate love and devotion, of smiles and happiness and contentment.
It’s also usually baby number one. None of this was my experience when my son was born, but then I wasn’t the one who had birthed the child. To be fair, the love and devotion was immediate for my wife, but the way I remember those first few months included a lot of fear, a healthy dose of resignation, quite a few gruesome medical procedures, and a whole lot of exhaustion.
Of course, all of this comes from an outsider looking in. Men can never really understand the toll a new child can have on a woman any more than a civilian can understand the trials of a soldier. It’s an experience without equal. Given than most screenplays are written by men, the clean depiction of childbirth and the months that follow is to be expected.
Tully, a film written by Diablo Cody, finally shows the other side. It’s an unflinching look at the brutal reality of childrearing, with all the heart, humor, and bodily fluids it sometimes entails. It is also one of the best films released so far this year.
Marlo (Charlize Theron) is on child number three with her husband Drew (Ron Livingston). She is very pregnant when we meet her, dutifully caring for her other two children, Emmy, age eight, and Jonah, age five. Jonah, in particular, is a special child, one with a cavalcade of anxieties and fears, which present themselves in angry tearful outbursts on a regular basis.
Her children attend a prestigious private school that they can’t really afford, thanks to the influence of her wealthy older brother Craig (Mark Duplass). In early scenes, we are treated to a school meeting between Marlo and the principal, where her son is described as “quirky” and in need of a full time assistant in the classroom—paid for at the expense of his parents. Marlo and Drew are not well off.
Drew is hardworking and absent and Marlo has recently taken maternity leave, likely an additional financial burden. Due to this, as well as a previous bout of postpartum depression following the birth of Jonah, Marlo’s brother offers to pay for a “night nanny” after the baby is born.
This person would come stay with the parents every night and take care of the baby while the mother gets some much needed rest. Marlo is at first put off by the idea, but after baby Mia arrives, she changes her mind.
Enter Tully: a wise, young nanny with an exceptional bedside manner and intuitive understanding of the needs of her employers. Marlo and Tully develop a relationship and bond over the trials of modern parenting. The film at times seems like wish fulfillment fantasy for frazzled mothers. Tully is shown to be an absolute godsend, a necessity rather than an extravagance. She makes you wonder why night nannies aren’t common and affordable.
Of course, nothing about motherhood is affordable in the United States unless the family is wealthy. Still, the film asks people to consider “what if” and experience the beauty of a family coming together to thrive when a small amount of pressure is taken off the most important family member.
Diablo Cody tells this story in a thoughtful, insightful way. Cody has grown as a writer—the film is less hipsterish and snarky than her first film Juno. The dialogue is less distracting and far more real.
Some of this can be attributed to the performance of Charlize Theron as well—although despite director Jason Reitman’s best effort, Theron is still effortlessly beautiful, even as a worn out mother of three young children. But performance is believable and honest, coming from a place of experience and understanding.
As most films are, Tully is about more than just its central idea. It ruminates on the feelings of loss and regret that accompany children. The person we were ceases to be when a child is born and something less interesting and more stable emerges. The goal of parenting is to provide a consistent, loving environment for our children, at the expense of our own identities.
It’s a hard pill to swallow for some. There’s always that wistful remembrance and that desire to leave it all behind to search for someone that’s gone. Tully brings that story to light with an honesty not usually found in traditional Hollywood.